Kamal Haasan, always

It was one of those slow afternoons, when you flip through channels without knowing what you’re looking for. And then Dasavatharam popped up. The film that first hit theatres in June 2008. I paused. And for what must be the 50th time, I stayed.

With Thug Life getting roasted from all corners and Indian 2 turning out to be a huge letdown, even for a Kamal kanni like me, I thought about Kamal Haasan and the deep, unshakable imprint he has left on Tamil cinema.

Sure, Dasavatharam has its flaws. But it remains one of my favourites, not just for its ambition but for its strange comfort in chaos. I’ve watched it enough to know most of it by heart, and yet every single time, I notice something new. It rewards you for returning.

Chaos theory. A devout 12th-century Vaishnavite. A villain named Christian Fletcher. Shaky CGI. And ten wildly different characters played by one man.

Dasavatharam throws all of that into a blender, hits pulse, and somehow, it works. It's messy, yes, but also entertaining.

People often say Kamal was self-indulgent, even narcissistic, for playing ten roles in a single film. That he left no room for anyone else. But honestly, isn’t that what a hungry actor does? Maybe all great actors need that kind of creative greed, the urge to do more, try everything, and stretch the limits of what’s possible.

Was it necessary? Only Kamal, or perhaps his director or producer, can answer that. But as someone who loves cinema, my answer is yes.

This is the same man who played Balram Naidu with such conviction that you forgot it was Kamal. The same is true with Krishnaveni paati. You know it’s him, but you don’t see him. That’s transformation.

Dasavatharam may be flawed, but it’s a film I’ll always stand by, even if that means getting laughed at. The CGI didn’t hold up even then, let alone now. But it was 2008. We understand. We forgive.

Films sometimes fail because the people who make them are human. It’s okay to feel disappointed when something doesn’t live up to expectations. You’ve spent time, money, and emotion. Rant away. You have every right to.

But to call Kamal Haasan “finished” because Thug Life stumbled or Indian 2 didn’t meet expectations? That’s not just unfair; it’s absurd. This is a man who has stared down mortality, both on screen and in life. He doesn’t just portray survival. He lives it. Every setback, every misfire, he wears like armour and keeps moving forward. That’s not failure. That’s resilience; the kind that defines true greatness.

Some now say he should stop writing. Really? If a meal doesn’t turn out the way you hoped, do you swear off cooking forever?

Let’s not forget Kamal co-wrote/wrote some of Tamil cinema’s most iconic films: Apoorva Sagodharargal, Michael Madana Kama Rajan, Thevar Magan, Mahanadhi, Hey Ram, Anbe Sivam, Virumaandi. These aren’t just beloved films, they’re part of our cultural memory.

He has seen films that were once dismissed eventually become classics. Sure, some didn’t make sense to us right away. But over time, we grew into them. Uttama Villain is a perfect example. I watched it three times and didn’t get it. But now, it moves me deeply.

Despite being strikingly good-looking, Kamal Haasan has had to prove himself at every step. He has worked across generations, from K Balachander, Bharathiraja, and Balu Mahendra to contemporary voices like K S Ravikumar, Rajkumar Periasamy, and the Anbariv duo. He has adapted, evolved, and remained relevant.

He’s always had to fight. In the 1970s, he was boxed in by the “feminine” tag, simply because he was a trained dancer. He still had to carve out his space, especially alongside Rajinikanth’s meteoric rise.

Ten years back, it would have been hard to imagine Kamal Haasan stepping into a film like Vikram (2022), willingly sharing screen space with stars like Vijay Sethupathi and Fahadh Faasil, or playing a menacing antagonist in Kalki 2898 AD, where the spotlight is firmly on someone else. 

But Kamal adapts. That’s his nature. Give him a platform, and he becomes it. Look at Bigg Boss Tamil... Kids who’ve never watched Nayakan still know him by name!

Yet Kamal has always remained part of the conversation. Every decade has ushered in a new wave of stars: Vijay and Ajith, Dhanush and Simbu, Vikram and Suriya, Sivakarthikeyan and Vijay Sethupathi. 

And now, a film like Tourist Family, released on May 1 and directed by debutant Abishan Jeevinth, has become one of the most talked-about films of the season. So much has changed, yet Kamal has never faded from view.

He even produced Amaran for Sivakarthikeyan, someone who openly idolises Rajinikanth, Kamal’s peer. If that isn’t grace, I don’t know what is. Even Sivakarthikeyan acknowledged it on stage.

His personal life has been dissected more than frogs in a high school biology lab. But through it all, he endured. You simply can’t talk about Tamil cinema without mentioning Kamal Haasan.

In an interview, he once described himself as a “limelight moth”, someone drawn, time and again, to the glow of storytelling and performance. And happy to be so.

We’ve seen him across eras: in black and white, in colour, on satellite TV, and now on OTT. And through it all, he’s remained relevant. As technology evolves, even as screens grow smaller and more adaptive, Kamal finds a way to stay part of the frame.

It’s almost like how we describe Lord Vishnu; present everywhere, from the thoon (pillar) to the thurumbu (rust). Kamal, too, is everywhere. You don’t need to go looking for him. He’s already there, adapting, always watching, always ready.

Kamal Haasan is like water. He takes the shape of whatever vessel you pour him into. You may love him or dislike him, but you cannot ignore him. He’s unstoppable. And to me, that’s what defines a true legend.

Whenever Dasavatharam shows up on Kalaignar TV, I don’t change the channel. I stay until the end credits roll.

Over the years, criticising Kamal became fashionable. People brushed off his ideas as too complex. Mocking him became a shortcut to sounding intellectual, or at least pretending to.

Sure, people troll Kamal Haasan. Because he brings clicks, views, and money. Someone like Gopi-Sudhakar has built an entire following largely by making fun of him. And strangely, that’s a compliment. They talk about him because he still sells. Let that sink in. The man is in his seventies, and he’s still the conversation.

If there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s this: we never stop talking about Kamal Haasan.

He still says something and pauses, waiting for applause, like a child hoping for candy when told, “You nailed it.”

Kamal Haasan is cinema’s ever-curious, ever-evolving favourite child; forever hungry to learn, unlearn, and begin again. He’ll remain alive as long as that curiosity lives on. Because that spark, more than anything else, makes an artiste immortal.

And that, more than anything else, is his legacy.

Still from Thug Life